


Is it love or... ?

by Yuki101Shonada



Series: Bittersweet Love [3]
Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Capture, F/F, dark context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 17:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuki101Shonada/pseuds/Yuki101Shonada
Summary: Years prior to the incident, Dia promised herself she would tell Mari everything. Now, she wasn't even sure of herself. In Dia's eyes, she saw what others could not, Mari's unstable mind. Witnessing the horrors of that night continued to haunt for each day.But what she couldn't get past was Mari's seemingly kind words, the warmest she'd ever heard, each time she came home Mari would always remind her who was in control. Dia had wanted so desperately to stop Mari and convince her all of this was wrong, their feelings that fell death's door, and the unspeakable things they in the corners of Dia's bed.In the end, Dia decided to stay for Mari.If not her, who else?





	Is it love or... ?

**_"If I were to tell you I hated you, I wonder what you would say?"_ **

**_-Dia Kurosawa_ **

  
Dia lived in two rooms in Mari's house. She was accustomed to her surroundings after sitting so long. Her bedroom was on the first floor, and her sitting room was a room, which, as part of the house, was called the “chambers”.  
  
  
In the morning when the sun streams in burned wood and charcoal, Dia erupted in raspy coughs. But by afternoon they seemed to vanish a little when Mari returned there was a kind of sadness in them, but as unaware Dia was, it was a sadness Dia disliked.  
  
  
Mari would accompany Dia's side before she left and embraced her lovingly.  
  
  
“You hungry?” Mari asked when Dia sat hunched over and silent upon the bed, she shook her head. “Have you lost your tongue?”  
  
  
“No,” said Dia, pulling at her shirt. “I’m... feeling under the weather.” They were starting to irritate her skin, the flimsy fabric clinging to her chest. It still did. “I… I'll sleep it off.” She went off hastily; “Please don't stress yourself, Mari.”  
  
  
“Sleep?” Repeated Mari, her eyes flickering steadily to the bed. “On the bed?”  
  
  
“Yes,” said Dia, “I think I will rest.”  
  
  
Dia laid on the bed, grasping the sheets in her hands. Her gaze traveled to Mari's, wondering if she left. Mari was still there though.  
  
  
“Sleep tight,” exclaimed Mari warmly. “Don't stay up. Or else…”

  
  
“I won't.” She replied.  
  
  
“Promise?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
Nodding, Mari drew in a sharp breath, following her finger to her lips. She gazed downward at Dia's face then smiled, eyes staring in the distance. She turned her back to Dia, strolling right to the door, not before she took a last look at Dia; her eyes closed and lying quietly. The door closed gently, shut behind Dia; clicking shut.  
  
  
Dia finally took a deep breath gasped, leaning forward to ease her breathing. Swallowing, she brushed a loose strand behind her ear, then, stared at the window.  
  
“Damn it.”  
  
  
It was pure hell- the skillful room, the exit towering in front. Not that this space was anywhere within her reach. There were all kinds of things Dia wanted to say, yet she hesitated when confronted.  
  
  
Dia's hand wandered to her neck, scraping the baron chain connecting to the bedside. “I'm hungry…” she groaned. Staring at the ceiling, mouth open she turned. “Stupid Mari.” She whispered briskly, cradling her shoulder. The slightest touch made Dia flinch; after a while she raised her right hand, sighing. The bruise the night prior framed the curves of her arm; purple dark cuts swelling beneath her skin.  
  
  
If Dia hadn't resorted to insults, then perhaps her arm wouldn't be sore. She remained silent, this time reprimanding. “How annoying.” She said, uncertainty, after a moment Dia did not smile, but something lightened in her eyes- a malicious gleam, a look of triumph. She carried a candle which shone upward on her face, streaking it strangely with light and shadow.  
  
  
Dia looked over her neck, placing her fingertips near the hilt of the chain. In a flurry of annoyance, Dia yanked her hand on the extending chains clasping her right foot.  
  
  
She glanced down quickly to observe the monstrosity that clung to her, she leaned back a little and pushed-almost imperceptibly-against the wall with her shoulders; yet nothing happened to save for the deafening silence.  
  
  
A trapped bird hanging on to a thread; Dia was in a similar ordeal, stripped of her freedom and isolated from the outside world. Crying out for help was futile, her cage obscured her vision, reducing her to a whimpering mess.  
  
  
At times like this, Dia was glad not a soul was present to witness her crying; the dark cage brimming with ghostly despair. 


End file.
